


I can’t let you go (your handprint’s on my soul)

by Ascel, The_Marron



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, a lot of Taylor Swift songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 10:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17764721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ascel/pseuds/Ascel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Marron/pseuds/The_Marron
Summary: The first time Albus hears a Taylor Swift’s song, he’s grading papers in his favourite coffeehouse near the campus. He doesn't yet know it will become a soundtrack of his life in the next few months.Taylor Swift is THAT relatable.





	I can’t let you go (your handprint’s on my soul)

**Author's Note:**

> a great shoutout to Voldemortissst for being our beta-reader!

The first time Albus hears a Taylor Swift’s song, he’s grading papers in his favourite coffeehouse near the campus.

Well, obviously this isn’t true: it’s not the first time he hears the song, when he thinks about it. He knows he’s heard it before. It’s ridiculously catchy, and he’s not actually a hermit; he must’ve heard it before, playing in the background. He heard some of his students singing it even. He just never thought anything of it before.

So: the first time he hears a Taylor Swift song and consciously associates it with his life, he’s sitting in his favourite coffeehouse.

The reason this particular coffeehouse is his favourite is quite simple, really. It’s less than a five minute walk from his office, hidden in the first side street just by the campus gates. Unlike the other coffee shops it’s not constantly swamped with students – and it is rather trying, when he constantly runs into his students while trying to find some quiet and caffeine. And they do serve good tea here, not just the teabag variety, like they do in most chain coffee shops.

The décor is a little bit too modern for his tastes: unlike most coffeehouses the whole thing looks more like it’s trying to emulate a 90s disco than a library, with low red couches, a black floor, and a row of flat screen TVs hanging on the wall. They are constantly playing some kind of music TV station, too, and though the music isn’t too bad, the constant motion can be rather distracting. He remembers the one time when he came here with a few colleagues after an academic conference, ostensibly to discuss the last panel. They didn’t discuss anything, but they did spend forty five minutes staring at the bright flashes on the screens. It just seemed so hard to stop watching, once you got caught up. They never mentioned it afterwards, too. It became something of an unspoken pact.

Still, he never considered it a reason to stop coming here.

This time, though, he’s reading a particularly dull essay from one first year student, badly written and rather pointless, when he catches a glimpse of motion. Then, once again, he’s lost.

On the screen a young blonde girl with pink tinge to her hair is lying on the ground, singing how she knew her – presumably ex-, by this point – boyfriend was trouble when he walked in. It doesn’t really make much sense, considering how moments before they were shown meeting outside, and he hadn’t walked in anywhere, and yet.

And yet Albus thinks about his own life, and suddenly finds himself with entirely too much sympathy for teenage girls everywhere.

Admittedly, he didn’t know Gellert was trouble the first time he saw him, because he was young, stupid and impressionable, so his first thoughts were rather in line with “Oh my God, how is he even real?”. Then, when Gellert started talking, it changed into “I want to marry his brain”. Albus is not sure if that is correct, it was a long time ago, and teenage Albus Dumbledore was his least favourite teenager (aside maybe for Aberforth, who is intolerable at any age), but the fact remains – he gets this girl. That is a worrying thought.

_And I heard you moved on, from whispers on the street_

_A new notch in your belt is all I'll ever be,_

sings the girl and Albus feels vindictive all of a sudden.

*

"I've been thinking of writing a new article," Albus says to Minerva on their weekly meeting over their cups of tea. "The science of radical political activism and alienation."

Minerva blinks.

"Albus," she says slowly, "you're a physicists. You do remember that, don't you?"

"It's always good to broaden one's horizons," he answers. "Chomsky did, and while he has some interesting notions, he clearly-"

 "You're not going to get over him by writing," Minerva interrupts him, quite rudely, in the middle of a sentence. "Writing articles isn't a form of therapy, Albus."

Albus begs to differ. If Tolkien could shout at people for saying fairy tales were childish and disguise that as an essay, so can Albus. Maybe he will even start a new literary genre while he is at it.

The next afternoon finds him back at his coffeehouse. He ignores the stares he gets from grad students occupying a table next to him. He is used to them. It is a truth universally acknowledged that professors seen at the hipster cafés are automatically the coolest professors ever, so he accepts his fame with grace.

He _does_ wonder when his coffeehouse became so popular with people in the students, until he remembers it was actually Newt who showed him this place, and Newt has a ridiculously wide social circle for a person so introverted. It does explain why the place is bustling with people in their mid-twenties with trendy glasses. They do fit in better than he does, probably, in his three piece suit with a purple tie. (There’s a flowery pattern on his tie, though, so he thinks it’s plenty trendy.)

He is in the middle of writing down a very good point about how throwing everything away, just because an individual has opinions about politics, was damaging to society and especially to significant others of said radical individuals, and he can almost imagine the offended look on Gellert’s face when he reads it and then he hears it:

_Ooh, look what you made me do!_

_Look what you made me do._

Taylor Swift, he now knows, sings with passion and after a short while Albus finds himself mouthing the lyrics. _Look what you made me do, Gellert, I’m listening to pop now_.

*

Unfortunately, the world refuses to behave like in every successful romantic comedy, and the day of their break-up anniversary is not rainy, sad and free from work. Albus cannot just stay at home in an oversized hoodie belonging to his ex (mostly because neither of them ever wore a hoodie in their lives), eat ice cream, drink hot cocoa and sing _All by Myself_. No, of course not.

Instead of a lazy Saturday, their break-up anniversary is on a bloody Monday, the sun is shining, the birds are singing and the coffeehouse is bustling with hordes of students desperately trying to cram a semester worth of knowledge into their heads in few short hours. And all Albus can think of is how it all happened.

“They’ve fired you from the university for missing too many classes, Gellert,” he remembers saying, as his partner just scoffed.

“Half of your students miss most of the classes and they do just fine. This is the university trying to silence me, Albus!”

“They were your own classes. You taught those.” Albus pointed out.

“How can I teach when our rights are violated?!” Gellert shouted. “As a professor I have a moral obligation to take a stand! To lead the students to freedom, to knowledge, to lead them in the fight against the system!”

“You’re a medievalist, Gellert.”

“And your point is? Are medievalists any lesser? Do we not deserve rights? Funds? Refunds for travelling to international conferences? Yes, you, science folks, do not know how the humanists have to suffer, how our efforts are hidden and how we go unpaid!” Albus remembers losing his temper then.

“YOU TOLD YOUR STUDENTS YOU WOULD FAIL THEM IF THEY DIDN’T JOIN YOU! THAT’S AGAINST THE LAW!” He shouted and Gellert’s eyes burned with righteous fury back then.

“FOR THE GREATER GOOD, I..!” And so it went. Gellert took his things, said goodbye to Fawkes, their parrot, took Albus’s favourite tea mug and left. Just like that.

He is distracted from his thoughts by some loud music. Albus isn’t really surprised when a familiar blonde head appears on the nearest screen. The video is a bit too much for him, with explosions, leather costumes and heavy makeup, but Taylor again captures the pain of his soul.

_Cause baby now we got bad blood_

_You know it used to be mad love_

_So take a look at what you've done_

_Cause baby now we got bad blood_

Yeah, we do, Albus thinks vindictively. They have. Because _someone_ decided their teenage dream to become university professors was not enough. Albus opens his laptop and goes back to correcting “The Science of Radical Political Activism and Alienation” _._ For some reason his reviewer claims the work is too personal. Bollocks. Albus is a _scientific_ researcher.

*

“Professor, do you know what professor Grindelwald is doing?”

“Probably getting arrested. Or blowing up the Parliament,” Albus answers without looking up from his fight with the projector, and only then he remembers that dean Dippet is present in the class to write Albus’s evaluation. Oh, damn you, Seamus Finnegan, for asking that question.

Predictably, he is called to the dean’s office after the class.

“Albus, you can’t tell the students such things. They don’t have to know there was something between you.”

“I said nothing of the sort. Just facts.” Dippet gives him The Look. Albus occupies himself with looking at his desk. It is a very fascinating desk.

“And stop acting as if Grindelwald decided to become a terrorist. He is just a politician...”

“Which is even worse.”

“...and maybe truly the position at the university wasn’t for him...”

“Clearly...”

“... and he can do some good for our university that way...”

“I doubt it.”

“...and he has some supporters,” Dippet finishes, very firmly ignoring Albus’s interruptions.

Albus just raises his eyebrows.

“I didn’t know two friends, five students and a fork counted as a political party, Sir.”

Dippet just sighs.

“Come with me, let’s get some tea.”

They do.

They go to Albus’s coffeehouse, because why shouldn’t they, they settle down, order and Dippet opens up his mouth to probably talk to him about mending his broken heart and lecturer’s responsibility, when the opening credits of the news flash on the TV screen behind them started rolling.

“Gellert Grindelwald, the leader of the Unity party was just now escorted out of the House of Commons for attempting violence on the Prime Ministers Travers,” shouts the excited reporter and the footage shows Gellert still fighting against two guards. If Albus felt more charitable, he would say that Travers had it coming with his remarks about the uselessness of humanities and his bigoted comments, but as he is, Albus just looks at Dippet. For a long time.

The dean hides his head in his hands and sighs in exhaustion.

 _All I think about is karma,_ Albus quotes in his head and starts to worry why he suddenly knows so many lyrics of songs for teenagers.

*

There is one person, at least, who seems to understand what he’s going through.

“Forgive me for saying this, Professor,” Newt Scamander starts during one of their meetings where they are supposed to discuss Newt’s dissertation. “But you’re really much better off without him.”

Albus doesn’t really know how he ended up being an advisor for someone who wants to write his thesis on animal studies, but there was a lot of talk about interdisciplinary studies and broadening one’s horizons. This may be also because Newt, while brilliant, is a little eccentric, and more than most of the faculty is ready to handle.

Right now, for example, he’s sitting on the floor besides Albus’s desk and playing with a chinchilla he’s rescued from some irresponsible owner. He’s looking for a new home for it, but he didn’t want to leave it alone at the house with all his other pets when both he and Tina where out.

Albus doesn’t mind, though. He likes Newt, so Newt can stay.

“Professor Grindelwald is… really something else,” Newt says diplomatically. “I’m not going to miss his teaching, since he wasn’t, err, best suited to academia, but his political involvement seems to be a little too passionate.”

Albus seems to recall these two never liking each other much, though of course Newt never said anything to him before. Gellert, on the other hand, used to call Newt Albus’s _little pest._ No wonder Newt didn’t like him.

“Tina saw him after this arrest,” Newt continues. “He was quite furious, she said. Kept screaming about homophobic idiots in power disregarding civil rights.” Tina Goldstein is Newt’s beloved girlfriend of two years and also a policewoman. A very accomplished policewoman who has the privilege of working at the precinct that usually holds rowdy politicians. Like Gellert Grindelwald.

Who was right in this case. ”A homophobic idiot in power disregarding civil rights” was quite an apt description of Travers, though maybe not one that should be stated publically.

“They released him almost immediately, of course,” Newt adds. “But Travers will likely press charges, or so Tina says. I wonder how long before it ends up in court. The media will have a field day.”

It was about what Gellert deserved, really. He would be overjoyed, even, with all the media coverage he will get. Normally he was lucky to even get a mention as a “left-wing extremist”. Who knows, that might have been his plan when he decided to physically assault Travers. Gellert usually had more than one plan, one aim and could play the public as he wanted. Not to mention the fact that the police footage makes him look like a very handsome rogue knight from one of the legends Gellert so adored...

 _He’s so tall and handsome as hell_ , Albus thinks absent-mindedly, _he’s so bad but he does it so well._

He doesn’t realize his humming the song until Newt interrupts him.

“Oh, I know this!” he says, and bounces a little in his chair. “This is _Wildest Dreams_! Queenie, Tina’s sister, loves Taylor Swift so much, you wouldn’t believe. We went to her concert a few months ago, it was amazing.”

This, Albus decides, is why he likes Newt so much.

He spends the rest of the meeting with Newt very firmly not thinking about Gellert and actually paying attention to what young Scamander is telling him. But the stories about the lack of funding, lack of respect and jobs for PhD students, the struggles of writing a thesis… Everything makes Albus think of Gellert even more.

“Maybe when Grindelwald stops being a national meme, he will be able to change something, even for the students,” Albus muses and only then notices that, once again, he has said that out loud.

Newt sighs and gives him a sad look.

The next time they see each other, Newt simply hands him a pendrive. When Albus opens it at home he finds a folder titled _When Queenie misses Jacob._ He is ready to call Newt and tell him that this is a bit too much and he isn’t a twenty-something with a “complicated” status on facebook, but the amount of Taylor Swift songs in the folder tempt him. So he puts it on and forgets the call.

God, Taylor understood.

*

The thing about anger, though, is that it leaves him much too soon.

There are only so many articles he can write out of spite, and at the end of the day, their apartment still feels awfully empty without Gellert in it. There’s no one to bitch to about first year students, or drink tea with, or talk late into the night. He feels alone, and heartbroken, and in depths of despair.

There’s also the mortifying thought of not having Gellert in his life anymore.

So he buys himself all the sweets Gellert hates and opposes vehemently ( _there’s no way all these lemon drops are good for your teeth, Al,_ he used to say, and: _I’m not letting you die of a heart attack before you’re fifty. You have to get old and wrinkled with me)_ and wraps himself in a blanket on the couch, reading _The Portrait of a Lady._ He can count on Henry James, at least, even if it is horribly depressing.

And on Taylor, of course.

He seems to have acquired a few of her albums in the last few days and he refuses to feel ashamed of himself because of it. He’s 47 years old; he doesn’t have to explain his music taste to anyone. If he wants to relate to songs written for a different target audience, so what. They are good songs, anyways, and they feel appropriate.

He does rather feel like an old spinster, but that’s beside the point.

The music is playing softly while Taylor sings about falling apart, Isabel is ruining her life by trusting a wrong person, and Albus tries to confront the terrible reality in which he’s alone for the first time since he was 18.

_Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much,_

_And maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up._

_Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well._

Maybe he should get a cat. A parrot is hard to cuddle with and cry with after all, and a cat would be a suitable replacement for his ex: egotistical, ungrateful, traitorous, unloving, with homicidal tendencies and a desire to rule the world. It could eat all of his food and then pretend he didn’t exist, because it was much above Albus's mere existence. And a cat, at least, wouldn’t leave because it wanted to run for the Parliament.

It could decide to eat Fawkes, though. That would be bad.

*

Albus knows that Gellert has not left his keys at their once shared apartment. He knows, because sometimes he forgets to do the shopping and yet the food for Fawkes never ends and sometimes he finds things in the fridge he doesn’t remember buying.

So he knows that Gellert sometimes sneaks into the flat like some kind of assassin and stealthily feeds their parrot. Or Albus’s parrot, because he remembers signing some documents that were to grant him eternal rights to said parrot. It is almost sweet, except it totally isn’t and Albus would prefer Gellert to miss _him_ and not the blasted parrot. No matter how pretty it is.

So he is surprised when he comes back home on St. Valentine’s Day and finds a new book on the table. He knows it’s not one of his, because he would never admit his love for 19th century classics, even to himself. And yet someone got him a beautiful edition of _Wuthering Heights_ with a single rose placed on the cover.

At first, Albus in angry.

How dare he come here, into Albus house? He left! He has no right to stalk Albus, to remind him of his existence when all Albus wants is to move on!

His first reflex is to throw the book away, call Newt and ask Tina to prepare a restraining order, so that Gellert may never bother him again.

But he doesn’t.

Because he is weak, and longing and he loves good books, so sue him.

So he spends the evening sipping wine and reading a tale of two terrible people who want to be together but can’t and who suffer for it. How fitting.

Yet there is something in him that makes his heart swell. Gellert knew Albus would love the book. He still paid attention, he still cared enough to give Albus a present. 

_Come back and tell me why_

_I'm feeling like I've missed you all this time_

_And meet me there tonight_

_And let me know that it's not all in my mind_

Taylor sings from his laptop and all Albus can do is nod in agreement.

But nobody comes.

*

There is a big conference in Dublin and Albus is almost nervous to go. His “The Science of Radical Political Activism and Alienation” is definitely outside of his comfort zone and he wonders why he got invited. _Loyalty and Loneliness:_ _The prize of being faithful_ is a strange topic, even for a humanist conference, and yet he got a written invitation. So he prepares his speech and consults it with Minerva who seems dead-set on accompanying him to Dublin “in case you do something all of the university will regret” which is not exactly reassuring.

He wonders why Newt seems so anxious when Albus tells him about the conference and immediately changes the topic to Queenie’s new obsession with _We’re Never Ever Getting Back Together_ , because her beloved, Jacob, refused to move to London and wanted Queenie to come back to America and... Albus loses track of the conversation somewhere and starts to suspect that there is something fundamentally wrong with the conference.

And then he receives the schedule.

_Day 1:_

_Panel 1: Historical approaches to loyalty, 9:00 a.m.-11:30 a.m._

_Guest Speaker: Gellert Grindelwald, “The Tragic Choice of the Knight: Between the Code and the King”_

He reads it and everything clicks into place. Of course they would invite Gellert, with his newfound popularity with the youngsters and deep love for the chivalry code, he was an obvious choice. His eyes skip four names following Gellert’s, all of them medievalists from the look of their topics. And then he spots his own name on the list.

_Panel 2: Science of faithfulness, 11:30 a.m.-1:00 p.m._

_Guest speaker: Albus Dumbledore, “The Science of Radical Political Activism and Alienation”_

Oh. They were right next to each other, not even a coffee break separating them. Somebody wants to cause a scandal? Or is their personal story still a secret? Is it all a coincidence, or did Gellert plan this, to get even more publicity?

Or maybe they are simply the best at what they do?

_Big reputation, big reputation_

_Ooh you and me we got big reputations, ah,_

he sings in his head and wonders if he is truly up to it. He could arrive only for his panel, but that would be rude and cause suspicions. And the other people in Gellert’s panel would probably be worth listening to, so it would be a loss.

And he isn’t afraid of facing Gellert Grindelwald.

But he needs to call Minerva.

He is going to face him and not bat an eye. Or woo him with his academic knowledge and cool demeanour. Albus is not going down.

He spends the rest of the day listening to one song on repeat and mouthing the lyrics along:

_Baby, let the games begin_

_Let the games begin_

_Let the games begin_

He is ready.

*

He isn’t ready. There is one hour left before the first panel and he can feel the erratic beating of his heart and the panic that seeps through his veins. He has never been stressed before speaking publically, he is a professor, for God’s sake! He managed to convince the children care representative to let Ariana stay at home instead of attending school! He could go there, deliver his speech about his ex right in front of said ex’s face and come out victorious.

Minerva simply looks at him with worry, but says nothing. She is truly the best colleague Albus could wish for. Even though she doesn’t appreciate Taylor’s talent for putting complicated romantic  feelings into catchy songs, which are relatable even for professors in their forties. Or maybe just for Albus. It’s still an achievement.

The evening before they departed for Dublin he tried to somehow explain the conflicting feelings he still had for Gellert and, as it was usual this days, he used Taylor to help him.

Minerva seemed to get the meaning of _Red_ , with the lyrics:

_And that's why he's spinning 'round in my head_

_Comes back to me, burning red_

_His love was like driving a new Maserati down a dead-end street_

When Albus made her listen to _End Game_ , she only sighed and allowed him to explain why the words:

_And I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em_

_Reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy_

_I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me_

_And I can't let you go, your hand print's on my soul_

_It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold_ ,

meant so much to him, but she drew the line at _Ready for It_ and she told him to “turn off that tragic young lady and act his age” when Taylor sung:

_You should see the things we do, baby_

_In the middle of the night, in my dreams_

_I know I'm gonna be with you_

In hindsight, that might have been a bit of an overshare. But there was wine involved and Albus had a lot of feelings that night, so well...

And now he and Minerva are here and she still supports him, no matter how much she judges him for his taste in music. This is true friendship.

They enter the conference room in which they are supposed to sit and start small talk with the people already present. Some faces Albus recognizes, but most of them seem new to him, even though they seem to be perfectly aware of who he is.

Then again, he was the best known Physicist in Britain at this point. His fame was endangered only once, when someone took a photo of him and Newt and the headlines were screaming _Cloning Already Here: Young Stephen Hawking at the Hogwarts’ campus?,_ but that blew over pretty quickly when Newt took part in a TV programme about Physics and talked the host’s ear off going on about manatees. That convinced everyone that he wasn’t anywhere near being Hawking’s clone, despite the physical similarity. And after that, Albus reclaimed his spot as the scientist most loved by the media. Not that he cares.

He and Minerva carry on the small talk and everything seems just normal, and then Albus notices a shadow in his peripheral vision. When he turns, he is met with a sly smile of Vinda Rosier, Gellert’s most trusted aide and the only person from Gellert’s party that people actually like. Albus loathes her with passion. Not that he would ever say it out loud, but the adoration with which she looks at Gellert during the rallies and her model-like appearance, not to mention her French accent... Everything about her is just wrong.  Mostly the fact that she sees Gellert on a daily basis.

“Oh, hello Albus, it’s nice to finally meet you in person,” she says and Minerva raises her eyebrows at the familiarity.

“Yes, the pleasure is mine, Miss..?”

Vinda laughs at that and Albus instantly feels a wave of adoration for Minerva, looking at the appalled look on her face.

“Rosier. Vinda Rosier.” The Frenchwoman answers, unperturbed. “I figured formalities were unnecessary, since we are in the same party, but it seems I was mistaken. Forgive me.” She continues and although her words are polite, Albus can see the amusement hiding behind her butchered vowels.

“What do you mean by the party?” Minerva asks and Vinda’s smile widens.

“Albus Dumbledore has signed the membership a long time ago, and although he has never graced us with his presence, he is a treasured member of the party. Very treasured, without him we wouldn’t have been recognized as a party at all.” Vinda replies and Albus is puzzled. When had he signed anything? He ignores the verbal battle between Rosier and Minerva and searches his memory.

When did he sign any document? And then it hits him. Fawkes’s adoption papers. Or rather, what he assumed were the adoption papers, because that was what Gellert kept on talking about, taking care of Fawkes, making sure he wouldn’t feel like he had been abandoned by his master and Albus simply signed whatever Gellert gave him... That bastard.

“In any case,” Vinda continues, “we wouldn’t be here at all without you, _professor_. For more than one reason.”

Albus has a sinking feeling he knows exactly what she means.

She smirks, than adds: “I hope you will enjoy the conference.”

The chairman arrives and asks everyone to take their seats and Vinda bids them an amused goodbye and goes away. Thank God, Albus would hate to sit next to her. The chairman welcomes everyone and tells a short story about the conference itself, how the idea came and so on, and Albus listens politely, but looks around at the same time, waiting to spot Gellert somewhere in the crowd.

“Please welcome our first speaker, professor Grindelwald with his lecture about the 'Tragic Choice of the Knight: Between the Code and the King’” There is a round of applause and there he is, Gellert himself entering the stage and thanking the chairman for the introduction.

He looks good. The newspapers called him a mix of a professor and a rock-star and Albus silently agrees. The man could be talking about the importance of putting your bottles in the recycle bin, and the audience would listen, enraptured.

Gellert’s lecture is something about Gawaine, Lancelot and Mordered, all being torn apart inside, because they couldn’t decide which was more important, the king or the chivalry they swore to uphold. Gellert mentions the tale of Gawaine and the Green Knight, how in order to make sure his honour remained intact Gawaine had abandoned his king and then compares him to Mordred – the knight of treachery who was loyal to his mother and his heritage, but not to the knightly code. Then he describes Lancelot as the failed Knight, who betrayed all – Arthur, Guinevere, and himself, by losing his honour.

“The tragedy of the Knights of the Round Table shows us that no matter how much the knights love an individual, no matter how much they wished to remain by that individuals’ side, they cannot do that. If they abandon their oath as knights, if they decide that their love for the king is more important than their integrity and honour, they will fail. And Albion shall fall with it. That is why Gawaine, although less remembered and romantic than Lancelot and Mordred, is the example of an accomplished medieval knight, even though he is the only one to leave the king. He shows us that correct choices are not necessarily the easiest, but they are necessary for the greater good,” Gellert says, his eyes locked onto Albus’s and Albus finally understands.

Minerva simply sighs tiredly.

Albus doesn’t remember much from his own speech, aside from the hurt look in Gellert’s eyes whenever he speaks of alienation from people in the name of ideas.

They need to talk, Albus decides.

He accepts his questions with grace and is not surprised when Gellert remains quiet. They don’t want to cause an uproar on this conference and any questions they had for each other weren’t likely to be academic in nature. They did have a lot to say to each other, but they already waited a year to do it. They could wait a few moments more.

*

Albus catches Gellert loitering in a corridor near a coffee machine, pretending to be looking for coins, but clearly waiting for something. Albus hopes it’s him.

“I liked your lecture,” he says awkwardly.

“I didn’t like yours,” Gellert answers, with a wry twist of his mouth.

Albus has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The whole point of his article was to get back at Gellert,

“Well, yes.” He stops himself from adding _you weren’t supposed to._ “I know what you were trying to say, with your lecture and the conference-“

“Do you really think I organized a whole conference just for you?” Gellert interrupts him.

Albus does actually roll his eyes at that. It’s just like Gellert, to make grand gestures and then deny they have any meaning, because then he would have to admit he has feelings and emotions just like every other human being.

“And I understand,” Albus continues, ignoring Gellert’s outraged expression. “I do. And I feel kind of flattered, actually, to be compared to Arthur-“

“Of course that’s what you got from it-“

“-but you’re not actually a medieval knight, Gellert, and this isn’t a tale of love and honour and ideals. You don’t have to give up one for the other, and you shouldn’t feel like you’re betraying anything by not doing so.”

Gellert blinks at him, clearly stunned. Albus feels a little stunned himself. He didn’t mean to actually say all that.

“Wait. Wait,” Gellert says slowly. “Are you actually apologizing?”

“No!” Albus says reflexively, before he thinks. Then he corrects himself. “Or yes, I don’t know, I… I just…”

He wants to say he forgives Gellert, but he knows it would be both patronizing and over-simplistic. What does he have to forgive Gellert for, anyways? He can’t blame Gellert for leaving when he was the one who told him to leave. So: not putting Albus first, above everything else? Not wanting the same things in life?

Doing things he thought were right?

It’s incredibly selfish and self-centred to even blame Gellert for that, and Albus can admit as much to himself. But he still feels hurt, and angry at Gellert for lying to him and making serious life choices without consulting Albus at all, and then deciding Albus was something he would have to give up. He just doesn’t know how to put it all into words.

And he still thinks dragging students to political protests _was_ unethical, but that’s beside a point.

“You never apologize,” Gellert says quietly. “You hate to admit you were wrong.”

It’s true. They both do. That’s why their arguments are always so explosive, and why they can’t stop hurting each other.

_Flashback to my mistakes_

_My rebounds, my earthquakes_

_Even in my worst light, you saw the truth of me_

Echoes in Albus’s head as he finally says everything he should have said a year ago.

“I love you. And I don’t want to waste anymore time arguing, and blaming, and tearing each other apart. And I…” He hesitates, and then adds: “I just want us to talk to each other again.”

Which, at the moment, is proving to be a little bit more difficult than anticipated. But it is a beginning.

It is a great beginning, as it turns out.

*

When Albus wakes up, the apartment is quiet.

It’s still early; the light is thin and grey. It makes everything look unsubstantial, immaterial. These are the moments out of time, Albus thinks, when it’s still too early to do anything besides brewing tea and watching the sunlight grow golden. Gellert would probably call it liminal, with the kind of smile he always had on when he was spewing bullshit, but knew he wouldn’t be called out on it.

Gellert, who is still sleeping soundlessly by his side.

Albus doesn’t even try to stop himself from smiling.

He’s feeling almost giddy, cheerful in a way he wasn’t in a long time. It feels like all of his pieces have finally fallen into their places and the world has righted itself. This, Albus thinks, is a sort of happiness that comes from being exactly in the right place, with the right person, and knowing it.

And he really is acting like a teenage girl, isn’t he? Even his thoughts start to sound like a Taylor Swift’s song.

He decides to get up then, before he starts writing love poems for Gellert – which Gellert would find hilarious, he’s sure, and mock him relentlessly for it. And it would come _after_ he would declare them devoid of any literary merit.

Albus shudders at the thought of it.

He has better things to do, like tea, or drawing up mock tests, or even grading papers. He’s an actual adult with responsibilities, he won’t be wasting away his days sprouting poetics because being near Gellert still gives him the butterflies.

But first he’ll just… stay here, for the moment.

*

_You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi_

_I can tell that it's going to be a long road_

_I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe_

_Or if you strike out and you're crawling home_

The song plays on his laptop and it’s a Sunday morning so Albus can and will sing along under his breath. He might not be heart-broken anymore, but Taylor has helped him a lot and he still has a soft spot for her songs, sue him.

Gellert of course chooses that particular moment to stumble into the kitchen.

“Oh, is that Taylor? _New Year’s Day_?” He asks, pouring himself some tea into his favourite mug. It sounds innocent but Albus’s mind does the math pretty quickly.

“This one was not released on from the radio. How do you know?”

Gellert looks at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Gellert...?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-two?” Gellert says weakly, and all Albus can do is kiss him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry.
> 
> (Also: please don't let us listen to TS and talk about grindeldore ever again)
> 
> Any resemblence to real people and events is accidental and absolutely unintentional.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!!!


End file.
